


Of Sand & Stone

by lettalady



Category: The Night Manager (TV), The Night Manager (TV) RPF
Genre: F/M, segments and drabbles for the time being rather than full chapters, sequel of sorts to The Night Manager (tv)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-11-19
Updated: 2019-11-21
Packaged: 2021-02-13 12:26:57
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 7
Words: 2,196
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21494281
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lettalady/pseuds/lettalady
Summary: [ Jonathan Pine roped in (a-ha, see what I did there?  ❤️) once more, at the bar to observe one of the potential weaknesses in Roper’s new setup at a dig site in South Sudan: one Mathilda Nimr, the young archaeology consultant serving to authenticate everything the site produced. ]
Relationships: Chris Evans as Riley St James/ original female character(s), Jonathan Pine/Original Female Character(s)
Comments: 6
Kudos: 7





	1. There's always complications but at least there's beer

**Author's Note:**

> [ Jonathan Pine roped in (a-ha, see what I did there? ❤️) once more, at the bar to observe one of the potential weaknesses in Roper’s new setup at a dig site in South Sudan: one Mathilda Nimr, the young archaeology consultant serving to authenticate everything the site produced. ]

With hooded eyes he watches the soldier watch the woman. The soldier isn’t even subtle about his study, nor is he doing all that great a job at blending with the surrounding patrons. This man can’t hide in a crowd. He’s powerfully built, streamlined - though half of that perhaps is training and toning. Good looking to the point every woman in the room knows where he’s sitting, and every man is jealous of him. Jonathan pegged him as military, and an American, long before he ever heard the soldier speak with that distinctive flat pronunciation of his order from the bar. It’s something about the way they hold themselves, looking at the world and everything in it as if they own it. The soldier’s beard and slightly shaggy hair don’t change a thing, Jonathan can still read the years of service on him. The man might as well have left the uniform on.

Pine’s only problem is that the soldier’s been studying the woman he was supposed to be approaching. If he approached her now he’d be on the Americans’ radar. Again. That’s exact opposite of what he’s trying to achieve. Of course it doesn’t come as a surprise that they would have a presence here, too. They had a stake in this, just like before. 

He’d report back tomorrow morning. Let them know that the Americans were also making a play. Make it someone else’s problem to worry about. They could have a pissing contest 3,500 miles away and he could work this angle, worm his way in and strike – all before they finished their opening posturing. 


	2. Hook, line, & sinker

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Also posted in the November Notes & Nothings word prompt challenge

**T**hey tried just about everything to lure him back. His answer held firm every time.

**_NO_**.

They were right, telling him he was good at it. That scared him all the more. Sliding in and out of identity? Adopting manner, adjusting expression and gait, wearing a second – or third – or fourth – skin instead of your own? And the violence involved – the thrill that rose up within him in correlation to it. No. No, thanks. Better to leave well enough alone. Better to return to the tranquil frozen tundra and anonymity that didn’t betray the innocent trust of strangers.

“_Imagine all the wrongs you could help right_.”

That line had worked once, appealing to his sense of duty. But that tune had been played out. He wasn’t interested. They’d have to find someone else. How many ways could he say it?

**_NO_**.

“_You’re good at this_.”

Sure. And he was good at other things, too, once upon a time. He’d enjoyed the quiet life, before. He yearned for a quiet corner of the globe, allowed to just _be_ again. And if he _was_ so damned good, why couldn’t he escape their persistent offers? Why couldn’t he fade into the crowd again? Evaporate from one place and cease to be on their radar?

What was it that caused his veil of invisibility to slip every few months – and then, like clockwork, that call to come in the wee hours of the morning. Two shrill tones and then a pause before ringing again? All for the standard exchange: The offer; his refusal.

Then comes the morning his curt reply catches in his throat. They don’t bother with hello this time, nor with an apology for ruining his attempt at tranquility.

“He’s alive, Jonathan.”

The simplest of phrases, but the ‘_no_’ he was summoning gets stuck in his chest. He blinks, and then blinks again, his breathing beginning to quicken. They know he’s still on the line. The empty air is cloying, a trap waiting to spring shut. They know they’ve got him. They’ve finally found the singular way to change his answer.

His heartbeat is thrumming within his head.

How?

But then – does the how truly matter?

“Richard Roper is alive and well.”

He grips the old plastic handset until he hears it creak in protest.

His answer comes out as a snarl. “Not for long.”


	3. A rush of blood to the head

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Riley St James and Jonathan Pine don't always agree

Tense and wary of one another from the near-brawl, they stand several paces apart, each breathing heavily. It’s control Jonathan is seeking: control of his emotions, of his body, of his mind and heart. Riley on the other hand… 

Riley can’t seem to contain his tongue, his words driving him forward three steps, once again closing the distance between the pair of them. “You!” He jabs his finger at Jonathan, “You’re just jealous! Jealous that she’s interested in me,” he closes his hand into a fist and thumps his chest for emphasis, “Me and not you.” 

Might it be jealousy? Or maybe just annoyance that the person that is supposed to be having his back is thinking about other things, and with their mark, no less. Jonathan takes a steadying breath, the back of his neck still burning where Riley’s tight grip on his shirt had caused his collar to nearly cut into his skin. 

“You know what?” St. James turns, throwing his temper towards the far wall of the room rather than continue to vent it at Jonathan, “May the best man win. Go ahead and see if she’s interested, for all I care.” 

Internally Jonathan snorts at Riley’s bravado. ‘For all he cares.’ Is the man working her over, using her like they originally planned, or falling for her. Does he even know?! 

He offers St. James the only three words he can think of to try to offer a way out of further argument: “Same to you.” 


	4. Who do you trust, Jonathan Pine?

Jonathan feels another rivulet of sweat trail down his spine but refuses to budge from his position opposite the town hall. Something wasn’t right about Nimr, even if Riley wanted to believe she was their golden goose. Granted, according to all the intelligence provided by both their governments she was their best choice to strike at Roper. 

But. 

Riley didn’t want to hear about the **BUT**. He didn’t want to hear about Jonathan’s doubts, that maybe they should just consider her an asset. That they should consider simply using her to gain access, with a key or code, and subsequently relegate her to the sidelines. Riley wanted to read her into the operation, believing that he’d managed to turn her loyalty, that he’d convinced her of the sins committed by her boss.

But. 

The more they addressed the issue of Mathilda Nimr, of Jonathan’s continued hesitance, the more it became a point of contention. They’d debated the subject of reading her in again last night before retiring to their respective corners, Jonathan thinking they’d regroup and return to planning things about at lunch today. Only Riley never showed. 

And now Nimr has deviated from her usual routine. Her one day spent away from the dig site was two days ago, spent in Riley’s company - per usual as of the last few weeks. So then why had she appeared in the city center again today? Why was she the one venturing out with the heavy payroll bag slung over her shoulder? Where was the usual man, and his security detail? 

And where the hell is Riley. Jonathan tips his thumbnail into the button to redail the American. Agreement to move on Roper or not, if Riley doesn’t answer by the end of the day… Well then, it’ll be fun and games for one man alone. He’ll just have to act as his own spotter and slip the fence-line around the dig site with talent and a little luck. 


	5. Infiltration at night

Now that he was inside the camp all he had to do was find the right building, the right tent. Few things could stand in his way, now. He’d find dear Dickie and squeeze and squeeze until the face of The Worst Man in the World turned blue. 

His shadow, cast long by the spotlight at his back, is his only companion. The steady hum of a job nearly done accompanies the thumping pace set by his heart, his thoughts race ahead - anticipation for this final act. 

But then a familiar noise stalls him. Though muffled, garbled, he recognizes the voice and the sound of pain in the mangled words. Then a lurching mass appears in front of him from around the closest building, two bodies attempting to move as one, and struggling. 

St. James’ broadness is easily identifiable, even in shadow and hunched as he currently is, leaning heavily on the smaller person. His words carry across the quiet compound, even whispered and slurred, “Shldntavdoneit. Shoulveleffme.”

“Shhhhhhhh.” 

Jonathan reroutes, quietly as he can crossing the distance to join the pair of them, his astonishment at their appearance falling away as his determination to see the bumbling pair safely away assumes control. They’ll ruin his plan. They’ll draw unnecessary attention. They’ll…. 

Serve as a great distraction.


	6. Nimr the nurse

Nimr appears in the doorway to his room, stopping just shy of entering. Crosses her arms for a moment before she holds out her hand towards him. “I think I can handle some basic first aid.” 

Jonathan snorts in response as he rummages through his kit one handed, adding to the items already plucked from the depths of his bag. Basic first aid will only help with the swelling, though he suspects St. James will take full advantage of Tilly’s attentions. What Riley needs is an x-ray to make sure that his ribs aren’t cracked and for someone to set his nose. Luckily Jonathan can do the latter. They’ll just have to monitor the coloring of the bruises on Riley’s torso in lieu of the former. 

Pine doesn’t bother zipping up the bag again, simply flips the flap shut and stands from his stooping position. Tilly seems determined to wait him out, even going so far as to block the doorway. 

“I can help. I want to help. Don’t you trust me, Jonathan?” 

The fact that she can ask him that with such earnestness while covered in Riley’s blood makes him all the more hesitant to answer. Maybe she’s always known - that purported feminine intuition… Maybe she sensed from the very beginning how wary he was of her. 

There are so many questions rattling around in his head - too many questions, with too few answers. Things about her that didn’t make sense; things that were too very convenient. It wasn’t, as Riley claimed, that he was jealous. If Riley wanted to allow his head to get clouded by the deep dark chocolate of her eyes and the sweetness of her smile that was his problem. Jonathan was a man on a mission. 

He drops his gaze down from her face, lighting on the blood she’d tried to scrub from her hands but stubbornly remains in the creases of her knuckles and in spots under her nails. She had helped to get Riley out. 

Poor foolish Riley, who had far too much confidence and far too little experience in dealing with the worst man in the world. Once he’s walking and talking again, without slurring and groaning to the point of being unintelligible, Jonathan has a few questions for him. Why they had been at the dig site, for one – and just what Riley had told Tilly about their endgame… 

Jonathan hems further, cautiously handing off the packet of bandages and box containing antibiotics. “Yes. Alright.” She brightens, taking the supplies and turning to lead the way back to Riley, who they left resting on the table in the main room. It wasn’t the most comfortable of surfaces but it gave them the most room to work. 


	7. The worst man in the world

“Still trying to burn my house down, aren’t you, Jonathan.” 

It was a question, but the way the worst man in the world said it, the way he smiled with sharp amusement… it was like the past two years never happened. Jonathan and Jed hadn’t returned to England to try to make a go of it, and failed. Jonathan hadn’t then reverted to his old ways and started travelling from one city to the next - keen to keep ahead of the man he could all-too-easily have become - and Home Office hadn’t sensed his aimlessness, hadn’t rung him in the middle of the night to try to bring him back into the fold. TPTB hadn’t inexplicably found him, no matter where he went, and eventually found the exact thing that would lure him back: 

The man currently standing there gloating before him. 

Jonathan blinks, but the scenario doesn’t change. They were back, standing together but apart, just like they had before. It was who they were as men that had divided them, then. 

And now? 

Well, currently what divides them is a man holding a high powered rifle, among other things. The hunting knife the man brandishes could prove useful if only Jonathan can manage the opportunity to seize the blade. He daren’t try anything until the status quo changes… or the man takes another step or two closer. Money may buy Dickie Roper many things but apparently not the brightest of security.

Roper snuffles out a dry laugh, “I thought you might.” He nods his head in silent command someone is shoved out, stumbling for the bag over their head, to join in their little drama held in the courtyard between the site buildings.


End file.
